


The Blackest Crow That Ever Flew Would Surely Turn To Red

by InkfaceFahz



Series: Tangled Circuits, Tangled Minds [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gang warfare, Hurt No Comfort, Near Future, Other, Psychological Horror, Transhumanism, dead bodies, medical science fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkfaceFahz/pseuds/InkfaceFahz
Summary: The Garbage Heap is a no-man's land unless you happen to be a member of the gangs, the Crows and the Cats, that fought for control of any resource that could be stripped from it. Unless you were Moniwa, mechanic, miracle-worker, madman, summoned by one of the factions to bring a soldier back to the front. Despite a mountain of chaos Moniwa's going through -- and causing -- the Crows are forced to make a deal with him.He's more than happy to accept.





	1. Break downs

**Author's Note:**

> So we're doing this then? OK, it's a series. Let's see what Nekoma and Karasuno are up to in this universe, yeah? You should probably read Do You Feel Alive When You Feel You've Been Replaced before this one. 
> 
> LOTS of medical stuff related to corpses especially you have been warned

“I need the body,” Moniwa’s voice was occasionally interrupted by a cough. Ushijima -- not the real one, Shirabu reminded himself -- was tending to both their injuries. Shirabu and Ushijima shared looks when Moniwa was preoccupied. Both now knew how unstable he could become.

“I’ll come then. I will have an escort. I know how the Garbage Heap treats warfare as a hobby,” he said with disdain. 

Futakuchi drifted into the room. He wasn’t… right, Shirabu thought, even though he had insisted on being part of the team reassembling him, nightmares about holding his head, conscious and silent and horrifying after Moniwa’s method of ‘handling’ his interference. There was something a touch more somber about him. 

“Futakuchi, hello there,” Shirabu tried to reach out. 

“Kenjirō’s been resting,” Ushijima added. 

“He’d need to. H’lo,” was the flat response they got. “Moniwa-san’s got a job?” He gestured. 

“ -- Maybe,” Shirabu answered hesitantly. He hadn’t stopped bleeding before rushing to Futakuchi, dismembered into voiceless objects. But he’d had no hand in the programs his wetware was running. Moniwa controlled that. 

All of them were his pet projects, save for Wakatoshi. 

Moniwa got off the line and sighed. “The Crows are more urgent. We’re headed to the Garbage Heap.” 

“Uh, the Strays are still fighting…” Moniwa gave Shirabu a look halfway between malice and amusement. 

“I constructed Mori and Kozu, and they know the protocol. Taka-chan?” He called brightly, “We must go out. Would you like to see Shouyou? Just bring my coat.” He glanced at Futakuchi. “Mind the base with Saku. Kenjirō and Ushi are coming as well.” 

\------

The Garbage Heap. A ramshackle home of a territorial war between the two gangs that scavenged like creatures of prey, and a mine of tools and material more valuable than a vein of gold. Moniwa’s presence, however, would halt hostilities. He strode purposefully with his small entourage, a long coat in a vibrantly saturated green-blue shade one would find in a lush tropical lagoon. It cut through the trash, un missable.

“Look, hold fire, the Wall's come to visit!” 

“Guns down!” echoed from the other side. 

“Teal means yield!” 

“Cease-fire!” 

Moniwa found his ability to force cease fires uninteresting. Any faction knew an errant bullet hitting him would have dramatic consequences, so who would risk it? 

Too many benefited to try and kill him. 

“Crows!” He called. “We’re here at your request. Cats -- We can do business another day.” 

The first Crow to greet him was Sniper Shimizu. She pulled goggles up and set glasses on her face. 

“Kaname, it’s been a while. You brought others?” She nodded towards Shirabu, Aone, and Ushijima. 

“Well, Taka-chan is such good friends with your young close-range fighter,” Moniwa said with a smile.

“Shouyou,” Aone clarified, waving as he saw Hinata Shouyou enthusiastically waving from the cover he’d been reloading behind. 

“And these two…?” She gestured.  
“Kenjirō worked with me to recreate Ushijima,” he replied casually, while the scar over Shirabu’s chest burned, Moniwa’s demands and pleas ringing in his ears. 

“Let’s continue this where we can negotiate what the Crows are seeking.” 

Shimizu turned, her hair and her gun swinging with her pivot. “That’s become more complicated.” 

Moniwa leaned in with interest. “I need to at least take a look at the body.” 

“Bodies.” 

The entourage from the Wall exchanged looks. 

“Bodies,” Moniwa repeated. 

“We need them back. Yama, Yachi, the tech is here,” she called to two junior members of the gang in front of a makeshift structure, and they cleared the way.. Azumane, their heavy weapons expert, and squad two combat specialist Tanaka joined the other two as they entered. Ushijima and Aone stood outside.

“Oh, my. Luck hasn’t favored you,” Moniwa commented, Shirabu paling at sight. One body they expected, Crow gang Captain, Sawamura Daichi, was the one they’d been contacted about. He looked on the brink of rotting, but he looked better than the man laid next to him, streaked with blood and mud from silvery hair down to his knee on his right side, like something hit him and he ragdolled across the field of battle. Moniwa crouched down and touched the blood on the second body’s lips. Still wet. Almost still warm. 

“You are in a dire position. That explains, Shimizu, you taking leadership on the field.” 

“We have a request for Suga-san,” she said, while Azumane nodded. 

“This happened hours ago. Can he be…. “ 

“No,” Moniwa interrupted. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean if you think trying to recreate Sugawara with biological components, mine his memories, you’re in a fantasy.” 

“Your androids are so human,” Azumane said. “None of them have biological parts?” 

Moniwa stayed crouched. “I’m trying to find the most succinct explanation…” He murmured, running his fingers over Sugawara’s corpse.

“The minds I build have defined parameters… Without curating the mind… unable to unfold the grey matter… Sugawara could very well relive --what did this damage, a frag grenade? Something damn big-- Endlessly.” Azumane stiffened. “I need to construct persons’ personalities so they don’t shatter. The adjustment period compensates for a lack of… primary sources,” he summarized. He had no incentive to go into detail. 

“But I use remains as reference.” He swept the bloodstreaked hair away. “Not components,” he concluded, gazing into Sugawara’s eyes, unsuspecting and wide. He surely died before he knew it was coming. 

“But your leadership’s decimated --” 

“Every ounce of rare earth metals, circuitry, and remains of disposed androids scavenged by the Crows for the next year belongs to you,” Shimizu said without hesitation.

“Really?” Shirabu asked. Tanaka and Azumane nodded. Moniwa had started examining Daichi’s body. 

“Well, you’re desperate,” Moniwa mused. 

“But you realize I’ll require those who most intimately know these two to accompany me to the Wall for development. Who is it?” Azumane shifted uneasily. 

“Michimiya has to stay here, she’s our only medical support without Suga... Kiyoko, them, and myself have been a squad for years. But…” 

Tanaka objected. “We’ll be food for the Strays.” 

“With your most experienced currently rotting, you already are. I’ll communicate with them. Shimizu, Azumane, my work is pointless if I can’t simulate something like they were. They’d be… shells,” he muttered. “And at the very least acquire from data from Michimiya you can bring while I speak with the Cats.” 

The dark haired woman looked at the man. “Asahi.” 

“I know.” 

“Feel free to bring Shouyou -- he’s more perceptive about personalities than most of your younger members, and Taka-chan likes him. Load the bodies into a transport of some kind, and I’ll communicate in no uncertain terms the Strays must back off. They owe this to me.” 

It unnerved Shirabu how Moniwa managed to behave pragmatically, diplomatically, normally, as thoughts of him wildly swinging knives, or curling up with one of his android companions like a needy child intruded. Moniwa was smart. Moniwa’s attachment to -- anyone -- went well beyond obsessive. Somehow, his scar was less vivid a reminder than the memory of the humming power supply running into the knife-shredded face Futakuchi wore, struggling to mouth “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” until Moniwa took him from Shirabu’s bloody hands and started chiding him like a youth.

“Don’t worry, there’s places to sleep. Taka-chan, Ushi, please help Shimizu and Azumane in here,” he called before strolling out of the shack. Shirabu followed him at a distance, as he watched Moniwa cross the no-man’s land. 

“Stray cats!” He called, only to suddenly have the tall, bomb-happy leader of their crew jump out and give him a firm hug. Shirabu almost drew a pistol in alarm, before he realized there was no concern. Two other members of the gang came out to greet him, and Moniwa examined each of them, verifying to Shirabu from a distance he’d created replacements for that gang before. 

“Kozu and Mori are in great condition,” he commented, fiddling with the back of their necks. 

“We take care of our own, doc,” Kuroo said. “So the Crows brought you out here?”

“Yeah. You’re going to keep a cease fire until the seconds I’ll be making can join their crew again,” he said absently, taking a look at Morisuke’s ankle.

“And before you argue with me,” Moniwa flicked his gaze up at Kuroo, “The Crows agreed to the same conditions each time I produced Kozume and Morisuke.” 

“Nah, I won’t argue,” Kuroo said, holstering his pistol. “We’re fighting over junk, not Seijoh jewels. Appreciated the hospitality to get Kenma and Yakkun back, but not eager for a third go-round.” 

“And my deal still stands with you?” Moniwa asked. 

“Owls gave us a tip on some gasoline so we can drive that shipment of scrap to the Wall. It’s piled up.Tora and Inuoka’ll deliver it soon.” Moniwa’s eyes lit up. 

“A truckload, how generous!” He gushed, and shook hands with Kuroo before turning back and rejoining the crew leaving the empire of trash. “Taka-chan, load the corpses carefully. Shimizu, you driving?”

“That’s right.” 

“Just mind the Snakes,” he said, referring to the conmen with no loyalty but to themselves that would find targets in the infertile waste. 

“This isn’t my first time,” she said casually, once the remaining Crows and androids boarded by the junker vehicle. Moniwa hung his long coat from a pole sticking out of the ground. 

“You’re really reminding them of the cease fire like that?” Shirabu asked. 

“In case the hotheads happen to forget,” Moniwa said. “Now I’m going to have to start working on the chassis structures at once. Hinata… Shouyou? pass me that bag.”

The orange-haired kid flecked with mud was staring at the bed of the truck where the bodies lay, covered, but blood beginning to spot on the sheet over Sugawara. 

“We’re r’ly getting them back?” Shouyou asked quietly, eventually registering what Moniwa asked for and passing it, after which Aone reached out and pulled him close, his head tilted in a position that he couldn’t see the remains. Shirabu and Azumane both began breathing again. 

“Moniwa can do it,” Aone said loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Moniwa’s done it many times before,” Moniwa said, scribbling in the notebook. It was completely inscrutable to Shirabu and a source of frustration, and paranoia that it was intentional, to let Moniwa control the knowledge and thus, the ability to create the androids. 

“Who else is in the Wall right now?” Kiyoko called over the hum of the engine. 

“Just Sakunami and Futakuchi, though he’s readjusting to some repairs,” Moniwa answered, which made Shirabu want to scream from where he sat in the bed of the truck at the open lie, it felt like a challenge, his fists were clenched and arms shaking until Wakatoshi put an arm on his shoulder and shook his head. Of course he noticed -- anyone else would think it was just the bumpy ride. 

“When we arrive I’ll start taking measurements and impressions of Sawamura and Sugawara, perhaps you three would like a bath or shower,” he suggested. Secretly, he hoped to keep the sensitive demolitions guy and the kid away from initial processing -- which generally didn’t leave the body intact. Once measurements, casts, and matching the coloration of eyes, hair, and skin was done, what would those piles of body parts be good for? It seemed most people didn't think that way about dead bodies, however.

“Much appreciated,” Kiyoko responded as they began nearing the bunker. “So you’ve got a stray from _there_ as your assistant? Sasaya never came back?” Moniwa’s mouth twitched at the corners before loudly, loud enough one would think he was trying to wake the dead, proclaiming, “Kenjirō is an invaluable assistant.” Then, more quietly, “I don’t get many comms from him anymore.” The vehicle pulled to a stop, Aone and Ushijima beginning to discreetly unload the bodies.

“I heard that early android, Tendou, had found those swords-for-hire and rejoined them. They’re off fighting the fortress.” 

“Ugh, the blue castle. I’ve only had dealings with them once.” 

“Wait, Shimizu,” Shirabu said as they finished unloading. “Satori found them? Eita, Reon?” 

She shrugged. “It’s only a rumor. I’m sure you were there to see your power structure fall apart after he died,” she said, pointing at Ushijima. 

Moniwa was studying Shirabu’s reactions like a hawk. 

“How new are you?” Shimizu asked the android carrying her friend. 

“A few weeks.” 

“Wow, impressive. They adjust faster now, huh?” Moniwa took this as an opportunity to talk extensively and rapidly about the changes in the activation process, Shirabu glancing at Wakatoshi and mouthing _we could find them_ and getting a cautious nod in return. The android, after his talks with Shirabu, did develop a... desire, at least, to see these people the first Ushijima new.  
“Sawa and Suga, both in PFO please. Shimizu, Azumane, Shouyou, let me escort you to our accommodations. Nothing fancy, but a bit nicer than a scrapyard, for sure.” 

“I could stand to wash my hair, true.” 

“Kenjirō, you check on Futakuchi and Saku, just make sure functions are normal,” Moniwa requested in a voice that was clearly an order. “Then join me in PFO after sterilization.” 

Shirabu nodded and went down the corridors that now haunted him with thoughts of a wild-eyed Moniwa illuminated only by the emergency lights. He found Sakunami and Futakuchi in the same common area. 

“Good trip?” Sakunami asked, while Futakuchi just waved, quietly. 

“We have guests. From the Crows.” 

“Alive or dead?” Futakuchi asked. 

“Both,” Shirabu answered explaining the situation. 

“Yikes… What rotten luck,” Sakunami said. “But that’s good for us, right?” 

“Just surviving by forcing them in his debt,” Futakuchi said darkly. Shirabu crouched next to where he sprawled out. 

“If you don’t hurry, he’ll wonder where you are. Setting him off with stray Crows in here would be a bad idea.” That at least confirmed for Shirabu that Futakuchi had memories of Moniwa that cast him in a less than stellar light. Maybe it seemed like too much trouble to preserve that illusion if he tried to remove memories of his outbursts and fits of violence.

“I know, I just was wondering about something he said to them. About why organic components aren’t used when we build you all,” Shirabu spoke very quietly, “Could the girl you mentioned, or whoever Koganegawa was… Could that have something to do with it?” 

Futakuchi leaned his head back, fresh, expressive outer skin nonplussed. 

“Who’s Koganegawa?” He asked, naked honesty on his face. 

Shirabu stared at him. 

“I don’t know what girl you’re talking about, either.” 

Shirabu suddenly felt a chill.

“... I must be tired. Misremembering something. I have to get to processing for operations. I think Moniwa-san would like necessary data and cosmetic information recorded before their comrades potentially see the bodies in that state,” he said, standing up. 

“Oo, yeah. Humans don’t like seeing other humans in pieces, I forgot,” Sakunami said, further adding to Shirabu’s unease.

“Yes, well… Stay near PFO, you might be needed. One of them came in pretty fresh, thanks to a frag earlier today. We’ll probably need to construct a substitute to fill some flesh in so we can cure the base silicon dermis.” Shirabu walked back towards PFO, where he saw the youngest guest being escorted down the hall by Wakatoshi and Aone. He hit the switch to reverse whether one could see in through the windows of processing and preparation area, so the young fighter wouldn't catch a glimpse of the gruesome processing, and looked at the two bodies laid out for him. Two at once wasn’t something he’d had to have done before, 

The attached room was machining, creating the interior structure and other parts as well as where Moniwa developed and improved the wetware interface, power supply, and other pieces he referred to as the “organs”. Something in there was already humming, so he assumed Moniwa had stopped in to get a head start machining standard parts. 

Shirabu began cleaning the bodies, getting them as sterile as possible before the casts and scans, pulling Sugawara’s hair back -- after closing his eyes, as they grew disquieting fast -- to assess how usable his face would be for the model. He doubted a motley gang had a lot of photo reference. 

There was surprisingly little damage to the face once washed of blood and debris. He had been a handsome man, with surprisingly delicate features, the lower jaw muscles relaxing into what almost looked like he was about to break into a wild, toothsome smile. The shattered right collarbone and ribs from whatever killed him -- it looked like a punctured lung was the final blow -- wasn’t the most problematic reconstruction, especially since the left side of the torso was fairly unmarred. At worse, they’d cure a generic model for the torso. Sawamura had a clean shot that pierced his heart, and miscellaneous scratches. 

Shirabu was already covered in blood when Moniwa came in. “Suga-san’s much less problematic than I expected,” he observed coolly. "Barely any flaws in the face. You’ve drained them?” He asked, to which Shirabu gestured to the pool of red channeling down a drain, and Moniwa smiled approvingly. 

“Not too bad.” 

“I was filling in the entry and exit wound on Sawamura for the scan and finish smoothing it out the material with his skin’s surface,” Shirabu said, gesturing with a container of a sort of putty, packed over the hole with cotton stuffed in the middle. “It’s otherwise unmarred.” Shirabu paused. "He." 

Moniwa tapped his finger to his chin. “Awful clean shot. Maybe Shimizu can tell us more. It’s either a sharp sniper…” He paused, moving around some tools as he prepared for disassembly, so they could scan each limb and build the skins on the models produced before seamlessly creating these effigies. It was a process that had been refined for when Moniwa was lucky enough to have intact bodies to work from, but it made most nauseous. 

“... Mutiny, maybe.” 

Shirabu stared at Moniwa, who quickly began humming to himself and clipping hair from each body to match the fibers their new selves would have instead. They’d be shaved as a part of the prep for creating the scanned models after, Shirabu shuddered as he remembered, removal. 

“Oh, Sawamura’s facial hair,” He said, clipping samples of that as well. “Coarser.” 

“I think we’ll just cure Suga’s torso on a standard model closest to his measurements. I haven’t been able to work around that hole very well,” Shirabu said. “The bone fragments and fluid in the lungs gave me trouble.” 

“That’s fine then. Shirabu. We can size his chest to a generic, it's fairly average to the range we've constructed. We’ve never worked on a Crow in the time you’ve been here, right?” 

He was startled by Moniwa not using his personal name. “No.” 

“And then two in one day… Do you believe in coincidence?” Moniwa carried on this conversation while looking for his preferred combination of scalpel and bone saw for severing necks. 

“I’m -- not sure what you mean by that.” 

Having found it, he lifted it up and looked at Shirabu with the same sharp, wide eyes that now regularly haunted him. 

“Kozu-chan is the strategic lead for the Stray Cats. The Crows must have been disadvantaged at least since the first one was replaced. These two weren’t particularly stupid, I’d wager,” he said, gesturing with the saw towards the cleaned bodies. 

“ -- They wouldn’t have to die to have an android on their side.” 

“But you know how lacking in personality that kind is, Kenjirō,” Moniwa said, almost sing-song. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like you can trust something that can’t wear the smile of a friend and react like them. Trust, I've heard, is important on battlefields.” 

Shirabu was biting his tongue so hard his mouth tasted like iron. He did trust the android facsimile of Ushijima more than he trusted Moniwa himself… but the former hadn’t attempted to stab him. "It just doesn't seem likely they'd get themselves killed. The Crows have a fair few they could spare instead of their 1st and 2nd in command. If you even think they'd do that." 

“Well, your prepwork was excellent today. Go and converse with the Crows so we can start getting their basic personality profiles assembled. I’ll handle breakdown for scanning,” he said, and Shirabu nodded and turned to leave as Moniwa positioned the knife over Sugawara’s exposed neck.

“Moniwa, have you ever tried to incorporate biological material of a subject in a replica android?” He immediately regretted saying it, scared to turn around. 

Moniwa spoke slowly, and deliberately. “From the wires to the shell to the organs, none of the androids here contain even a skin flake or blood droplet of DNA. They’re not human.” 

“You never had a failed …” Shirabu trailed off. “I’ll take my leave.” 

"Change before you go to our guests. The little one likely wouldn't like seeing his friends' blood all over you," Moniwa advised in a detached tone. 

"Of course." Moniwa watched him walk out the door, Sakunami appearing through the window and gesturing, presumably to where their guests were. Moniwa turned back to his task. 

“Fixing Futakuchi was the right thing to do. His personality was unconstructive with Kenjirō around,” he said, seemingly to the corpse, as he repositioned the tool. "Maybe I'll bring my Kenji back if Kenjirō is gone someday. 

"Not human..." The blade slightly scratched the skin, his mind not thinking about the process -- clean incision before switching to a bone saw -- but spacing out for a moment. "They're all still here, though..." He shook his head slightly.

“Let’s get your heads sorted out next, then," He said to the corpses of Sugawara and Sawamura. 

"It’s a bit crowded here, now.”


	2. Soft Reset, Hard Landings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ambitious theory could solve the problem of the corpses the Crows have been burdened with, while the Wall tests the limits of their faith in this temporary agreement. As a human struggles to detach himself from what troubles him an android slips into solipsism. And a young fighter learns that looking behind a smile can be scarier than the face of an android lacking skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied/Interpret-able or brief mentions of Michimiya/Daichi/Sugawara, Aohina, Shirabu/Futakuchi, and one-sided Shirabu/Ushijima in this chapter.

Hospitality was not a specialty of the Wall. They were managing the best they could, which when you took the conditions of the world at large, was better than average. They had items like soap, and bathrobes and towels and blankets and bedding. Whether they had the warmth of hospitality was another question all together.

Shouyou’s stress had clearly tired him out, and he had started dozing in Aone’s lap, the android taking not a hint of issue with this, occasionally brushing his hands through the shock of orange hair, so gentle one would never think of Aone as something inhuman. 

Kiyoko and Asahi each held a certain anxiousness nothing could assuage. Shirabu entered the room, in clean clothes without their comrades’ -- their friends’ -- blood covering them and each was guarded; One, coldly, pragmatically, the other emotionally, looking more fragile with each blink. 

“Shirabu-san,” Kiyoko said. “When is our duty done?” 

Shirabu sighed, and sat down, picking up a tablet. “Honestly, whenever you speak. I’ll need you to specify which subject you speak of, though,” he said, exhaustedly looking at the archives of data that others were born from, before beginning two new file folders.

**KOU_SUGA.PSG**

**DAI_SAWA.PSG**

“They were…. Very close, you know,” Asahi said with that trademark anxiety in his voice. Shirabu raised his eyebrows, directing his gaze at Kiyoko. 

“Intimate,” She clarified without explaining anything. He made note of this, pondering whether androids could love. He wondered if Wakatoshi would love him, before bidding himself to stay focused.

“Suga’s impulsiveness somehow complimented Daichi’s tendency towards caution… Their trust in each other’s judgement is perfect.” 

“Interesting,” Shirabu said, unconsciously glancing at Ushijima. That was not so different from them, once.

Shirabu proceeded to ask a battery of personality questions, All were ultimately, “If X, then Y”, and Shouyou occasionally woke up to give so extra bit of color -- something they liked, an odd habit … It didn’t matter what. Every detail went into the documents for Moniwa. 

“Is this really going to make them like.. The real ones?” Azumane asked, and Shirabu set the tablet down and sighed. 

“As best as we can. To Shouyou, Aone is real enough. To others,” he gripped the stylus tightly, “They’ll never be the same as they ever were. But you want them to win a war. Tell me who they are, but tell me their combat skills, too.” 

Kiyoko and Asahi sighed. Shirabu couldn’t help but sympathize with their exhaustion. 

“We can do more tomorrow. Eventually, even Moniwa sleeps,” he said, candidly. “Two constructions that are -- intimately close -- will require more than an evening of interview. You must need sleep.”

Kiyoko glanced over her frames at him. 

“I can’t tell if this is genuine,” she said, eventually, simply. 

“It is, really, even if you don’t believe me,” Shirabu argued weakly, before sinking into the couch.

“... You’re learning how exhausting finding someone dead inside yourself is,” he said finally. “Trying to recall every small thing about them…” He tightly shut his eyes, seeing two Ushijimas in his mind. “Trying not to lose the little things that make them… them.” 

“Yes,” Azumane replied on instinct. “I’ve kept… little habits of theirs on my mind all day…” He drifted off. 

“I’ve done my best… I have Yui’s notes, too… It seems so scattered…” 

Shirabu didn’t even open his eyes or lift himself from where he slouched on the couch. “Good.” 

“Keep doing that,” he murmured, knowing at this point Moniwa was finishing dismembering the corpses or monitoring the scans for the casts they’d cure with supple, false skin. He’d had to show swatches to Kiyoko to match Sawamura’s skin tone, as the body was less fresh and had started to develop a sickly pallor. The woman was fairly stoic and even that seemed to disturb her. 

“Suga-san was so nice,” a breaking voice said. It was Hinata Shouyou, having stirred, his arms slung around Aone. 

Shirabu had nothing to say to that.

“Can that be programmed?” The youth asked.

“What?” 

“Daichi and Suga. They were so nice. Can you program the new ones to be that, too?” He asked innocently. 

Shirabu and Aone’s gaze met when the former looked at Shouyou. 

“We can try,” he choked out, before suggesting all retire to the guest accommodations, owing to the late hour. The extra bunks were gratefully off the room they’d congregated in and didn’t require traversing the hallways of the labs. Shirabu didn’t put it past Moniwa to carry the deceased’s heads to the bio-disposal like a pair of ripe melons. He put nothing past Moniwa anymore. He retreated to his bedroom, where he was surprised to find Futakuchi. 

“ -- Is something the matter?” He asked, Futakuchi shaking his head. 

“I wanted to know what spending the night-time with someone who wasn’t Moniwa was like,” Futakuchi eventually assembled into a coherent thought. “He brought Sakunami into his bedroom tonight. He seems to not want me near him while he’s asleep… Which makes sense.” 

Shirabu just looked at him. The android almost seemed sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck, so the human reached up and stopped that, grabbing his hand. “I don’t want you to knock your activation chip loose.” he said, though he admitted, “That was a very… human response, though.” 

Futakuchi lowered his arm. “Honestly, I assumed Wakatoshi would be joining you.” 

“He’s… we’re trying to limit interaction since…” Shirabu’s sentence drifted off. Futakuchi nodded.

“I remember more of that than Moniwa probably wants me to, so makes sense. But it’s garbled, probably from how you said he responded with rapid disassembly. Memory corruption from an incompleted shutdown means he couldn’t erase it entirely, but it barely parses in my processors.” Shirabu was clearly getting more and more uncomfortable hearing this analytical viewpoint of that horrorshow, recalling that if nothing else, something that night motivated Moniwa to search and destroy the fragments of those opaque ghosts Futakuchi had mentioned to him. 

“Besides, he and Aone are posted to keep an eye on the guests,” Shirabu said, shifting the subject. Well, Wakatoshi was formally “posted”. Shouyou seemed to cling to Aone for comfort and that didn’t seem to trouble the android or the creator, so, that was all right. It was hard to tell if Moniwa had a genuine soft spot or that he just thought it would be the best course of action. 

Shirabu was too drained from the processing immediately followed compiling seemingly endless data about the same bodies, so he lay down without changing, patting the bed to let Futakuchi know he was welcome. The android sat at the side of the bed.

“I shouldn’t smell like blood and viscera, I think,” he said. He had washed before meeting with the Crows, but the smell of death could be pervasive.

“It wouldn’t matter. Smells aren’t the same for us.” Shirabu pried an eye open when Futakuchi said that. “I figured you would know that,” Futakuchi added. 

Shirabu rolled on his side, sighing. “Probably another one of Moniwa’s secrets. The amount I know about the process or smaller functions seems almost like I know less and less as time goes on…. I can’t even tell if his handwriting is atrocious, or if that notebook is in a code…” Shirabu glanced over his shoulder. “You can lie down, you know. Don’t worry about it.” 

After a moment, Futakuchi complied, mirroring Shirabu’s position, and Shirabu felt his hair and Futakuchi’s tangle with each other, messy and splayed on the pillow. 

“This is different from Moniwa,” Futakuchi observed, quietly. 

“I’d hope so,” murmured Shirabu. “I’ve seen how he gets his hands all over you.”

“When he’s not clinging to one of us,” he confided, “He thrashes, and disrupts his sleep. He’s even cried out. I don’t understand why.” 

“Why do you try to understand him at all?” Shirabu asked, tiredly. 

“He knew me once,” Futakuchi’s voice box modulated down to a soft register, one Shirabu couldn’t recall the first Futakuchi ever using. “If I understand why he is like this, maybe I can understand why I am.” 

Shirabu found the solipsism a bit tiring after the past day. “Why… you are… what?” 

“Why I am me. Why he needed me when I was not there.” 

There wasn’t really anything to say to that without exposing the insecurity, the same need, that he had felt when they constructed Wakatoshi, when the eyelashes he had so carefully hand punched fluttered, when they spoke and it really was that reassuring baritone that Shirabu would have followed to the underworld. 

“... I can’t believe I’m going his way,” he muttered with some concern. 

“What?” 

“I said I’m going to rest now. Good night, Futakuchi.” 

He felt an arm -- silicone textured, unnatural weight distribution, but an arm -- lay over him. 

“Good night, Shirabu.” 

\-------

“Sleeping in a bed was comfortable. Thank you for hosting us,” They had to haul a table out for meals while the Crows were there. Moniwa nodded in response, hands folded under his chin, looking at Shimizu Kiyoko. 

“There should be some clothing in the storage if you need to change, and brushes, probably some other grooming tools. I’ll send one of them to retrieve those, I think I know what room they’re in… Futakuchi,” he said while gesturing over his shoulder, the robot automatically taking the order. 

“Well, last night, I realized the questions… weren't near enough,” Shimizu said, taking out a two items: a hardbound notebook that had to be years old, and a piece of out of date technology with a rudimentary touch display and some buttons. The other four seated humans leaned over them with intrigue. 

“Kiyoko, you’ve kept this…?” Asahi asked, and she nodded. 

“What is it?” Hinata bounced in his chair, tilting his head. 

“So you’re an archivist, too,” Moniwa said, his smile stable on his face. 

“This would normally never leave our secure storage. It contains information about every member of the Crows, past and present. From detailed analysis of their reaction times, weapon proficiencies, to little notes about preferences or things that they’ve said. And information of other kinds such as geographic survey, methods for fixing jammed weapons.... Even limited profiles of the stray Cats..”

“Assembled alone?” 

“No. I’m the second. Takeda began it. But without this knowledge, there’s more times than I can think where the wrong planning, the wrong strategy, would have destroyed us.” 

Shirabu picked up the electronic. “And this?” 

“Tap it and hit “open” on the prompt that pops up,” she said, so he did. 

_“You get that?” A younger Sugawara proclaimed to the camera, with a semi-automatic rifle on his arm. “I sure got it!”_

_“Well, took an extra shot,” Daichi came into the frame, holstering a very old model of pistol. Suga stuck his tongue out and slung an arm around Daichi after setting down the rifle._

_“Cats won’t know what’ll hit em. Noya!” He yelled again, “Update us on those landmines!”_

Kiyoko tapped the edge of the screen and it was suddenly at night. They’d gotten ahold of what looked like real food, not rations, and Daichi was in frame with somebody else with short, dark hair.

_“I’m terrified every time we make the first move,” he said, candidly, “But I can’t show that because we have to.”_

_“Yui, I’m trusting you. If anything happens, Koushi, Asahi, and Kiyoko will need you to be their stable ground so they can lead.”_

_“There isn’t enough stability on a heap of trash.” The video concluded with him giving Michimiya a kiss. “Yui, I love you and I love Koushi. I couldn’t live without either of you.”_

Kiyoko stopped it there. “That partition solely contains moments of Daichi and Suga. There are two sections on each of them in the book -- the one Takeda started, and then the one with my notes.Their relationships with the Crows are in each individual’s section, too. I want to use all of it. They were leaders. Leaders have to know their followers.” 

She looked Moniwa in the eye. “You can’t breathe a word of these existing. You have access for one reason and one reason alone: Bringing them back right,” she said, her voice trying to sound tough but shaking, just barely perceptible. Asahi put a hand on her back, and Hinata looked at the book and device with fascination. “So I’m in there, too.”

Shirabu glanced at Moniwa. He smiled at Kiyoko, warm yet slightly sharp. 

“I’m impressed. This could greatly reduce the labor of creating the personality guideline. And at the very least, the data is much more thorough than I usually have to work with -- mannerisms on video? I’m impressed you’ve retained so much information.” He picked up the notebook and the video player. “A bit sentimental…” 

“Takeda was like that… as the team expanded it because useful for assigning missions… So I just continued.”

“Acclimation will be much faster, too. In fact -- Kenjirō, I want you to begin physical chassis construction and cosmetic work immediately, insert the stock central power supply. I might be able to wake them up within 24 hours.” Hinata’s face lit up. 

“You really mean it, Moniwa-san?” He asked excitedly. “So we can go back home soon?”

Shirabu was baffled at the idea of a massive scrapyard being home, though he didn’t voice that. Frankly, he was glad they were even slightly at ease. Kiyoko’s expression had softened, her shoulders less tense. 

“I hate to depart, but we --” Moniwa said pointedly to Shirabu, “Have to begin. If you need anything, ask any of the androids.” 

“I’ll be mixing some pigment, but I’ll get to assembly soon,” Shirabu called after Moniwa, who casually waved over his shoulder. The moment he was out of sight, Asahi leaned in closely. 

“Seeing him walk away with that has my anxiety racing, Kiyoko,” he said, rapidly. 

“I didn’t like it, but it was my last resort. We can’t afford them to come back wrong, and the faster we can bring them back the less strain on Ryuu and Michimiya while we’re gone.” 

“Trusting it to him, though, unsupervised?”

Shirabu spoke. “Arguing with him could have shot your chance to get your commanders back.” The three of them looked at him. 

“He doesn’t…” Shirabu chose his words carefully. “Take disagreement well.” 

“I’m not tracking,” Asahi said, so after a moment, Shirabu set down the pots he’d been collecting from the cupboard and raised his shirt. The knife wound had scabbed, and parts of the slash were close enough for medigel stitching, but it hadn’t been long; The injury was ugly, and it hurt. 

“But-but… Moniwa-san has been so helpful,” Hinata said, firmly in denial. 

Shirabu let go of his shirt. “He can be helpful, but I… made a severe mistake and Moniwa only appears unassuming.” He let the implication he was more at fault sit -- now was not the time to completely destroy their hope in Moniwa.

“Everybody thinks he’s an easy target, but too valuable to know -- it’s how he practically has immunity anywhere in these wastes,” Kiyoko. "But he can fight too, huh." 

“I ended up here after I failed and Ushijima and Tendou were killed, seeking help and here I am, now, the only other human here. Sasaya had a different rapport and over time he’s grown more attached to his former… friends remade as androids…”

“--I’m going to get to preparing Sawamura and Sugawara. I’m sorry,” Shirabu apologized, “but I can only bring you in once the skin is on to aid me with adjustments in tone, freckles… You would not want to see them in pieces, I believe.” He walked away. Kiyoko crossed her legs and folded her arms.

“I guess that makes us prisoners for a while.” 

“It’s rare a commissioned android has the clients present during construction,” Futakuchi said walking in, offering changes of clothes. “Moniwa… tends to prefer our company to people.” 

“I didn’t want to have to call him. I thought we’d be able to soldier on, but…” Kiyoko drifted off, looking through clothes that were not heavily-worn, though seemed to be for someone a touch shorter than her. "Without them the war won't bring us peace."

“... Almost everyone in the crew saw Sugawara die yesterday,” Asahi said, Hinata quiet. “Broad daylight. We all screamed at once. It was chaos.Even the most trigger-happy stray Cats lowered their weapons while we retrieved him. Was he just unlucky, or reckless with grief after just losing Daichi? Then… their bodies side by side…” 

“It was Tsukki. He said, ‘It only makes sense to try when they have androids on the field.’” Hinata sorted through shirts far too big for him, but his serious tone surprised the other two Crows. “Everyone knew he was right.” 

The finished android would never erase that memory and trauma from their minds, but the new Suga would never have that memory. Futakuchi himself was still sorting through the fragmented memories Moniwa hadn’t managed to grind out of existence.

“You’ll adjust,” he said, the closest to empathetic he could get, before laying his eyes on a jacket in the pile given to Shimizu. 

“Crow -- may I see that?” Kiyoko glanced at him and him the jacket. It was well worn. It was familiar. He hugged it to himself, trying to detect any particles that seemed familiar. 

“It wouldn’t fit me, anyway. Maybe it’s for someone younger.” 

He stared at it. 

“ -- Anyway, myself, Sakunami, Aone and Wakatoshi are at your service while they’re working. Just call, feel free to walk throughout the non-lab sections of the complex.” He walked off, intent to hide this somewhere, for some reason. 

“I want to see Aone then,” Hinata said, jumping from his seat. 

“Please be careful,” Asahi pleaded. Hinata nodded, running off. 

The work was more or less the same for Shirabu as any job since starting at the Wall, but he found himself moving more frantically and switching between them -- it seemed strange when one lay there far more completed, portions of skin fleshing them, while the other was just the shell and core structure excluding their “brains”. More notably… Moniwa was quiet. Almost completely non-verbal. He seemed preoccupied by how much material he had to base these androids of off, running back videos on endless loops

_Let’s have a toast, Suga -- Let’s have a toast -- Let’s -- Let’s --_

_Don’t pull that shit again! Hey! Put the camera -- put -- put -- put_

Moniwa was doing this slouched at the end of the slab their heads lay at, while Shirabu was checking the final fit of the many-layered faces that would mask the cores of reason, expression, circuitry and structured gel working together, once Moniwa finished them. The density of their internal joints and supports was varied, according to the weights listed in the notebook, and based off the descriptions of how they each fight. Video feed was ready to hook up from inside their eyes, so perfectly color-keyed save their lack of pupil.

_We’re gonna make it out ok. I mean it. I mean it. I love you._

“Port mp4_0334 to KARASU-1 and KARASU-2 in Core Lab. Associate with emotional response subroutine triggers,” he said to the little device. 

“You broke into that obsolete thing? To implant memories?” 

“I connected it to the Wall’s network, it’s not that old. And considering how many resources are in it, a mind is a terrible thing to waste,” Moniwa said disinterestedly. “The amount this has stored on it is impressive.”

“All of them learn, you know. The androids. But very few immediately rejoin an environment with the baggage of dozens of human relationships to pick up where they left off.” He stood up, stuffing the device in his pocket. “I manually input crucial data from the book, which took forever. They’ll be thrown into a complicated environment right away. I’m gonna arm them best I can,” he yawned. 

“You really don’t like humans much, huh.” 

“I doubt the Crows are enjoying being stuck here,” Moniwa evaded the accusation. “You missed Suga-san’s mole, but that’s okay. You can apply that once I’ve got the wetware in. The stuff I’ve fit in, and the huge vocal samples range I could isolate to construct their voices, these two are going to be so far beyond the other successes.” 

“How many failed before I came here?” Shirabu asked, only to find Moniwa suddenly alarmingly close to his face.Shirabu pulled back.

“Enough. Now finish that stuff up. Even their combat styles are totally unique. Can’t wait to turn these on.” Moniwa walked back to the Core Lab, and Shirabu briefly wondered if Moniwa was porting audio-visual from that device, whether he copied the contents. He supposed the Crows wouldn’t care how as long as they seemed right -- and when did Moniwa ever explain things straightforwardly. 

Shirabu finished the structural and cosmetic, painting thin layers of tinted silicon over the silver-haired android’s lips, the tips of his ears…. The others were lifelike in many ways, but as Shirabu dressed them in their company’s combat wear of a dark jumpsuit with orange pips, it was the first time it felt like he was making life. Not even Tendou or Wakatoshi made him feel this way before activation. 

“Ready for the part that matters?” Moniwa said as he reentered the room, carrying their being in two containment jars labeled KARASU-1 and KARASU-2. 

“Take Suga-san, please,” and with that Moniwa carefully lifted the skin on the new Captain to connect components, to fit the brain, and place the access seam under the hairline. He repeated this with Sugawara. “They’ll be more confused with those memories present. Let’s get the Crows we interviewed in here to help them adjust.” 

\------

“The little one went wandering?” Moniwa sighed. 

“He wanted to see Aone.” 

“Well, you two likely are most well suited. They’re going to be confused. Do not discuss the nature of their deaths. Do you understand?” Kiyoko and Asahi nodded. “We’ll find little Shouyou once we’ve activated them. Now, come on,” Moniwa clapped his hands and suddenly brightened. “I think your friends have turned out incredible. Fu-chan, Ushi-chan,” Futakuchi looked baffled at the diminutive nickname. “Just in case they have any issues, I’d like you on hand.” 

Upon entering, the two outsiders were frozen, staring at the androids, while Shirabu clattered awake from the chair he’d passed out in. 

“They’re… it’s them.” 

“No point waiting around. Initial Call Number: S-2-1-TOBE”, Moniwa enunciated clearly. Sugawara’s eyes snapped open, while Sawamura’s opened more slowly. 

“Response: Self-Identify, KARASU-2.” 

They looked around. 

“Sugawara…. Koushi….” the delicate silver-haired one slowly said, before spotting Azumane and Shimizu and leaning forwards. Tears welled up in their eyes. 

Daichi was flexing his fingers, his wrists. 

“Response: Self-Identify, KARASU-1.” 

“Sawamura Daichi,” he said. 

“There we are. Can either of you identify the people in front of you?” 

They spoke over each. 

“Kiyoko, everything feels dif--” 

“Asahi, do you understand... “ 

Moniwa glanced at the four of them. “I’ll be of little use acclimating them. I’ll go find where little Shouyou ran off to. The others are here for technical help.” 

He waved over his shoulder as the androids were embraced by their friends, their comrades. “Enjoy your first-of-a-kind new lease on life. You can leave the Wall once they’re oriented.” 

\------

“What a pain… he’s gotta be with Aone, right…” Moniwa muttered, stalking the corridors. For every room outfitted with equipment of the caliber of those main labs, the complex had a half dozen rooms or nooks that just accumulated garbage. 

“Shouyouu!” He called, sing-song. “Are you with Aone? You must come meet Suga and Sawa!” 

He stopped suddenly on the lowest level and looked to his right. A door that hadn’t opened since Sasaya’s departure. Things ended up in it via a chute. There was sniffling. 

“Of all the places…” He palmed the access panel and found the young soldier with the shock of orange hair. 

“You fell down the chute, Shouyou?” He asked. He supposed he was putting on a voice like a parent, but he wasn’t quite sure Shouyou ever had any. His arm was twisted, he was scraped up. 

“Who are they?” The youth whispered. Moniwa redirected his gaze at the dozen or so broken androids littering the floor. Slicks of liquid pooled under them. 

“The only who in here is you and me, Shouyou, and now I’ve got the door open I’m sure Aone is coming. Were you playing hide and seek?” 

“That one is!” Hinata pointed. “He gave me a shirt!”

Recently-trashed parts identifiable as Futakuchi had landed on a large chassis with blond hair, a dark forelock, and a hole punched through the chest. Poetic irony, Moniwa thought as aggravation set in. 

“They’re just spare parts, they aren’t the same as Taka-chan or the others,” he said, his soothing tone cracking into irritation. He picked up another head. “It’s not like them at all,” he said swinging it by the ponytail. 

“These don’t feel anything like you and me. Your arm hurts, right?” Hinata nodded, and offered it out. Moniwa took it in his hands, gently, kindly, before twisting it harder, until he heard a pop dislocating it, then quickly coming down on the fingers with the sharp of his elbow, pinpointing the pressure against the concrete of the floor. A few cracked and broke while he shoved cloth from his jacket in the youths mouth to muffle the screams. “These things can’t feel things like that. You see, they're just parts.” 

“Nobody needs to think about this place,” Moniwa slowly emphasized. “Now I’ll carry you out, and put this behind us. Aren’t you excited to see Suga and Sawamura again?

Hinata nodded. As if he rehearsed it, he picked Hinata up in his arms and ran calling for Aone, who found him within a minute, his concern for Shouyou making him downright chatty by regular standards, worried for the injury that Hinata felt Moniwa’s eyes on him when asked about it. 

“We will take care of you,” Aone whispered to Hinata, which made the boy shudder. Aone looked sad, and Hinata clutched him. Aone didn’t do this. He knew that. Moniwa... Moniwa fixed his friends... but broke part of him... Hinata didn't know what to believe about the unassuming engineer. He didn't want to. 

“I blame myself,” Moniwa said regretfully. “The chute is where broken equipment and furnishings go. It should have had a door on the upper floor. Let’s head up, set his arm, I’m sure I have some candy if you’d like, Shouyou?” He smiled at him, but it's kindness had severely declined. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” 

They were. The other androids were glad it wasn’t a more serious injury, and the reunion between him and his commanding officers… his friends, who were warm and nice and remembered him, he felt at peace as long as he didn’t see Moniwa. Shouyou was comforted as they set off to depart back for the encampment at the Garbage Heap, because as much as Aone was his friend, he didn’t want to see behind the Wall any further. He hoped Moniwa would never be reconstructing him. 

Moniwa waved along with the other androids as their truck departed, then when the quartet left to clean up and make dinner, he opened a nondescript black box and padded it with his thumb. 

**_P2P SECURE CHANNEL_ **

**_RECIPIENT Keiji$FUKURO454#41_ **

**_Some interesting findings. Your preparedness obsession should be happy with a load of spare heads and arms, but I’ve come across some information -- a lot of it, and more importantly, a new use. Written, audio, and visual. You Owls will want to listen to this._ **

**_You know what I’m looking for. Tell me when._ **


End file.
